All I've Ever Known
by OnceUponALegend
Summary: To escape poverty, we left Britain behind. To ensure the ministry never finds us, we locked our wands away. What is left, when all you've ever known is gone? Harry PotterTeen Titans crossover. Not Slash
1. Walking Away

SUMMERY - To escape poverty, we left Britain behind. To ensure the ministry never finds us, we locked our wands away. What is left when all you've ever known is gone? And who will be there for us, strangers in a strange land?

Harry Potter/ Teen Titans crossover

DISCLAIMER - I do not own Harry Potter or Teen Titans. I do not own any related characters. I do not own... (This list could go on for hours, so I'll just stop here.)

The war is over. Voldemort has fallen. The battle lasted three days. So many died.

Pansy's father was killed the first day; Aunt Bellatrix lasted longer, but she died in the end. Lupin killed her.

The Weasel came off the battlefield practically in pieces, but he managed to kill Greyback without getting himself bitten. He's quiet the hero now; she Weasel too. But Potter is even bigger.

We all knew that if he succeeded he'd be the biggest wizard since Merlin. He has his own holiday now, and it's only been two days since he defeated Voldemort.

Snape was revealed once and for all as being on the side of the Order. Turns out Dumbledore asked him to kill him if it came down to that. He's been fully pardoned. _I_ wasn't so lucky.

Soon - not tomorrow or the day after - but soon; the Ministry is going to show up at the manor to haul me off to Azkaban. My birthday isn't for nearly two months yet, but it matters little to them that I'm underage. After all, "If someone is old enough to be a Death Eater, he is old enough to go to Azkaban." Or at least that's what Rufus Scrimgeour thinks.

Blaise is living with mother and I. Just after the final battle his mother disappeared. No one has any idea where she might have gone. Blaise pretends not to be worried. He says he knew that she's leave sometime after his seventeenth. But even his dark skin can't hide the circles under his eyes, or the fatigue in his step. He hasn't slept much since he came to live with us. He's a Death Eater too, but the Ministry isn't going to catch either of us.

By this time tomorrow, we'll be in America. And as much as I hate the idea of living with muggles, I'd rather them than angry Aurors. Even if we will be poor. Blaise is a little more opposed to the idea.

"At least in Azkaban we could claim we had some honor, that we stuck with our convictions to the bloody end. In America, we won't even be able to claim our own blood. Did you ever think of that, Draco?

"I don't know about you, but I refuse to live with a bunch of filthy muggles. It's beneath us to run. We're pure bloods, and not only that, you are a _Malfoy_. The blood running through your veins is the _purest_ of the pure. You cannot truly be willing to mingle with _muggles_. For Merlin's sake, Draco, I thought you had _some_ pride."

"What use is pride when you're dead, Blaise? Whether they execute us or we rot in our own filth, we will die one way or another. Which is worse, living with muggles until we can prove that we were the worst Death Eaters ever and never were capable of doing anything bad enough to die for, or living out the rest of our lives in a dark prison?"

"I suppose if you put it that way..."

"We never had any pride?" I tilt my head just slightly, a smile forming on my lips. Blaise slaps my arm.

"Get packed before you ruin what little dignity you have left."

"Don't you mean before I ruin what little dignity _you_ have left? I never had any dignity."

I'm joking, but it's true. I didn't. False pride, certainly, but never any dignity. Even that pride is gone now. It was taken from me the night Snape killed Dumbledore. That night I lost any right or desire to brag about my position in Voldemort's supporters. Not that I had bragging rights in the first place, but I thought I did. After all, I was Draco Malfoy, son of the Dark Lord's right hand. Now I am a failure of a Death Eater on the run, walking away from the only life I've ever known.


	2. Home Sweet Home

SUMMERY - To escape poverty, we left Britain behind. To ensure the ministry never finds us, we locked our wands away. What is left when all you've ever known is gone? And who will be there for us, strangers in a strange land? Harry Potter/ Teen Titans crossover

DISCLAIMER - I do not own Harry Potter or Teen Titans. I do not own any related characters. I do not own... (This list could go on for hours, so I'll just stop here.)

Chapter 2 Home Sweet Home

(revised)

"Look at us, Dray. Look what we have become." Blaise's smooth voice is thick with disgust.

I look away from the book in my hands, eyes traveling over the dust-covered apartment room. True, it's filthy, and we'll have to clean it by hand, but it's better than being dead. Isn't it?

"We're nothing but pathetic, prideless cowards; no better than the muggles we share this place with."

"Of course we're better than muggles." I layer my tone with derision. Sometimes Blaise amazes me.

"Just because we have to live with them doesn't mean we have to think like them. As long as we remember what we are, we're superior to them."

Blaise snaps around to glare at me, sneering. He picks up the book in my hands.

"Lord of the Rings,_Drake_?" He lays heavy emphasis on my psudonym; his tone as twisted as his lips; "You're a fine one to talk. But you forgot one tiny detail. As long as we remember what we are, we should _act_ like what we are. But we can't do magic without fear of being caught, and _you_ got a muggle job!"

"I had to._ You_ certainly weren't going to. Do you want us to starve?"

"At least then we'd have some pride left."

I've _had_ _it_ with Blaise and his precious pride.

"Better dead than disgraced, is it Zabini? You'd rather be rotting in Azkaban than running? You can't even stand an apartment. How are you going to survive in a _cell_?"

I'm sure the neighbors can hear me. Right now I really could care less.

"Because in a cell I would at least know that I stood up to my convictions!"

"What convictions, Blaise?"

"I don't know, maybe the ones that are against running like a _mudblood_!"

Dead silence.

Not even the air moves.

"What did you say?"

I'm furious, angrier than I've ever been at him; too angry to yell. My voice is low and cold.

Blaise is pale under his dark pigment. His eyes drop, then jump desperately to my face. Proud as he is, even Blaise wouldn't be able to survive here without friends.

"Draco, I-"

"Don't you _ever_ accuse me of that again. I am _nothing_ like any of those filthy half-breeds." I can barely talk, I'm so angry. If I spoke it, that last sentence would have been in parseltounge.

I'm reaching blindly for the doorknob before he can say anything else. But as I close the door behind me I remember something, and turn to look over my shoulder at Blaise, still standing where I left him.

"Oh, and you forgot: my name is Drake now."

I slam the door behind me, and run straight into my mother.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, what is going on here?" Her voice is angry, but her eyes tell me she's worried. "The entire building could have heard you two, yelling like first years."

"Blaise doesn't like it here."

"Then maybe Blaise should leave."

I can't help being horrified. None of us would survive alone; Blaise and his pride least of all.

"He's my best friend. My only friend. How could you say something like that?"

She closes her eyes, swallows. Even I can see the toll recent circumstances have taken on her. She hasn't been the same since father was thrown into Azkaban. Being forced to leave the world she grew up in, forced to leave him behind; it's killing her slowly.

Once she was a great beauty. Now, with her skin ash pale, and purple shadows marking the hollows under her eyes, she could be ten years older.

"I'm sorry, Dray. I'm just tired." Her voice is rough, exhausted. She's far beyond tired.

A soft creaking behind me announces Blaise opening the door.

"Dray, I didn't mean it."

That must have been hard, considering that I've never heard him come even that close to an apology before. I put my hand on his shoulder.

"I know, Blaise."

Mother nods.

"Let's try to avoid shouting matches in the future, shall we?" But some good humor is back in her voice.

She moves to return to the kitchen/living room; then stops.

"Oh, and boys, there are rags in the closet. Dust your room."

Blaise I glance at eachother, then at the layer of dust on every flat surface in the room. I reach into the tiny closet, next to us in the hall, and hand a rag to Blaise. He shrugs.

"Might as well make the most of things."

"Glad to see you finally admitting it."

The words could mean simply what they seem to, but Blaise's dark eyes are suspicious.

"Um-hmm. And just what am I admitting, exactly?"

"That I'm always right." I say cheerfully.

Blaise sighs, but he's grinning.

"Stuck-up pure-blood poster boy."

I grin back.

"Yes I am. Now get to work."


	3. Amethyst Eyes

SUMMERY - To escape poverty, we left Britain behind. To ensure the ministry never finds us, we locked our wands away. What is left when all you've ever known is gone? And who will be there for us, strangers in a strange land? Harry Potter/ Teen Titans crossover

DISCLAIMER - I do not own Harry Potter or Teen Titans. I do not own any related characters. I do not own... (This list could go on for hours, so I'll just stop here.)

Chapter 3 Amethyst Eyes

How do muggles stand this? It's like being a house elf with nice clothes. And no beatings. Okay, so it's not really like being a house elf, but if someone asks me what the drink options are again I'm going to kill something. And the -

**Wow**

No one with legs like that should wear anything that short. It's highly distracting. I wish that girl with the never-ending thirst would stop waving me over. I've filled her water glass fifteen times, I swear.

The other girl, the one in the short skirt, is sitting at a table in my section. Unfortunately, she's sharing that table with more than a dozen other people. One of whom must be her boyfriend, because not even the weasel glares at me like that. I don't see why he's so angry. What does he expect, letting her run around in that skirt?

After filling the bottomless girl's glass yet again, I go around the new table taking drink orders. Without really caring, I wonder if the single adult at the table is going to pay for everyone. At least the drinks aren't complicated: fourteen waters and one tea. The only kid that wanted soda was told he was not, under any circumstances, allowed to have anything with caffine or suger until after they left the resturant. I can see why. He's practically bouncing already.

It doesn't take long to get the drinks and I'm going around the table again when I hear the tail-end of a conversation that seems to have been about me.

"...can't read people like you can, but there's something very strange about our waiter."

My ears catch the light whisper from the end of the table as I set a water in front of the slight red-head with the jitters. I look up slowly, hoping my eyes don't betray my interest.

Three people are sitting at the end of the table. I already know the blond is mute, so the speaker must be the other boy.

The girl beside him looks up to meet my gaze. All rational thought comes to a dead halt.

Her eyes are deeper than the black lake, colder and softer than moon shadows on the snow; more piercing than Dumbledore's could ever hope to be. They're looking straight through me, past the lies and into my deepest soul.

I force my emotions to be still, to die. Interest flits through her eyes like a fish through dark water, so quickly that I'm not sure I really saw it.

Frantic, almost shaking, I throw up my strongest shields. They're no good and I know it. She knows what I am.

She drops her gaze and I step backwards clumsily, dropping the tray. Water and tea splash across the carpet and my clothes.

"I'll be right back to clean that up." I try unsuccessfully to keep my voice from wavering.

It's all I can do not to turn tail and run, but I manage to make it to the kitchen with some dignity left. One of the waitressess whose name I can't remember looks like she has nothing to do, so I send her out to take care of the mess. In the back, I collapse, trembling, against the wall.

My pant legs are soaked. At least it's not soda. All the same, I don't think mother is going to be happy with me, and not just about the clothes. For some reason that's all I can think of: mother's displeasure. But then, it's not really surprising, considering that I just threw my life, and Blaise's, down the drain.

Unless... Maybe she only knows who I am. I wasn't thinking about the others, and I didn't see her find my memories of them. If I can get them out of the house before she finds out where I live -. But she's like no Legilimens I have ever known. She could have seen my entire mind without me ever knowing it. My godfather is nothing compared to her. Merlin, _Voldemort_ is nothing compared to her.

Maybe she doesn't even use Legilimency. I've heard of people who were true mind readers, though no one I know of has ever met one. But the sorcerers in the old stories my father used to tell me could do it. Of course, there hasn't been anyone powerful enough to be called a sorcerer in centuries.

I felt her mind, just for an instant, but I felt it all the same. Even when Voldemort read my mind I didn't feel power like that. She _crackles _with it. Being near her when she uses her power is like standing on top of the astronamy tower in a lightening storm: dangerous, but completely exhilerating.

And I felt all this in just a few seconds contact. Felt it with the impossible clarity of adrenaline racing through my blood. What would it be like to wield that kind of power? To -

Abrubtly, the boss is standing in front of me, his heavy brow creased with dissaproval. Not again. Oh Merlin, please not another lecture.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking a break."

The sane half of my mind instantly kicks my insecure insolence off a mental cliff, berating me furiously.

_"Excuse me?"_

I hate it when he looks at me like that.

"Getting back to work, sir."

Satisfied for now and wanting me to get back to work more than he wants to give me another lecture, he nods and leaves. I force myself to walk back out, dreading returning to the large table in the east corner. Even the girl with the constantly empty glass has left, making the large group my only obligation.

Nothing out of the ordinary happens, but the girl at the end keeps glancing at me, an almost desperate curiousity in her eyes.

Gradually, I pick up some names.

The kid that keeps glaring at me is Richard. The group is here to celebrate his birthday. His girlfriend's name is Kori.

The man is Bruce.

The jitterbug is Wally.

The boy that was whispering about me is Garth.

And the amethyst-eyed girl is called Raven.


	4. In The Twilight

Chapter Four

Blaise is waiting outside for me when my shift ends. His dark eyes are amused as he sees takes in my rumpled look.

"How was work?"

"Not now."

He shrugs and falls silent.

Maybe the girl wasn't even a witch. Maybe she won't turn me in to the ministry. I wonder what they'll do to me for running. It will probably only affirm my guilt in their eyes.

Everyone who ever met me knows I'm a coward. That in and of itself should be enough proof of my- not innocence- I was a Death Eater. But it should prove that I don't deserve to die. Potter knows what Voldemort did. Not all of it, but I know he saw through the Dark Lord's eyes.

I should tell Blaise about what happened. We have to move, have to-

"Drey!"

I come out of my thoughts to find Blaise shaking me roughly.

"What? Don't yell."

"I've been trying to get you attention for five minutes. We're going through here."

He points to an alley that cuts between two streets we'd have to walk a long ways down otherwise. But there's no way I'm going through there. The resturaunt and the nicer part of town are far behind us. Anything could be hiding in the shadows, just waiting for a couple of defenseless idiots to come within reach.

"No way. I wouldn't walk through there even with a wand."

"Don't be a baby."

Blaise grabs my hand and drags me toward the alley. He never did listen to me. I think that's why he's my friend, rather than my lackey. The rest of them just bowed and scraped and did whatever I told them to.

It's dark in the twilight, and I can barely see Blaise just ahead of me. It's longer than I thought. We're only half-way through, and already the street light is just a dim memory.

A large hand wraps around my mouth, pulling me back against a rock-hard chest. I knew something like this would happen. I knew we shouldn't have gone through here.

Blaise has heard the my struggles. The whites of his wide eyes gleam in the darkness as he searches for some kind of weapon in the trash that litters the edges of the pavement.

"Let him go."

The voice, though quiet, holds authority. My captor raises an arm, and the dim, reflected light from the street beyond glints from something metal in his hand. Pressed this close against his body though, I can feel him trembling. He's afraid.

A darker shadow emerges from the night. The metal is jerked from the man's hand. He stumbles, off balance. Falling beneath him, I reach out a hand to protect my face. He's heavy. Something cracks loudly as I hit the ground, and fire runs up my wrist.

"Is he always like this?"

Through the agony, I hear a dry, somehow familiar voice.

"Mostly."

Something cool wraps around my wrist and flows throught the shrieking nerves in my arm. I don't realize I'm making noise until Blaise slaps me.

"Merlin, Drey, shut up! You'll wake the dead moaning like that."

"That's an odd expression."

I knew I recognized that voice. The girl from the resturaunt. If she didn't know before, she does now. Her tone is exited and longing.

"Who are you?"


End file.
